Never Trust a Fella With a Helmet on his Head
by Patricia Holm
Summary: Jake and Des solve a mystery on ice. I have no connection to the Republic of Doyle or Great Big Sea title but am just a fan. This is a sequel to Leslie Gets a Role and a new version of a previous attempt at this story.
1. Chapter 1

Never Trust Part 1

Leslie woke up early and decided to head over to the RNC training facility for a good, hard workout. She hadn't fully recovered from the events with the St. John's Players Theatre and Gordie Ahearn's attempted sexual assault. He had pleaded not guilty and the trial was in a few months. He was in custody, though and she wasn't afraid of him anyway. She was more afraid of her feelings of vulnerability or weakness. That was new and uncomfortable.

She had started training on the heavy bag with the RNC boxing coach as a way of toughening up. She had been at it for about two hours and was starting to get hungry. Time for a last push and then get ready for work.

Jake had woken up in the apartment / office and looked around with some embarrassment. He hadn't brought Leslie back here since they had gotten serious. She was too classy for a fold-out bed above a bar. Plus, too many people had access to this place and they were still keeping their relationship under wraps for the most part. He had thought about getting a place before but when he had the house with Nicki, she had done all the work finding and organizing it and with Alison, he had balked when she started touring show homes planning their lives together. He would really rather work on finding a place as joint project with Leslie, but he didn't think she was ready for that and he didn't want to scare her off by pushing too hard. He surprised himself with how good it made him feel to think about having a permanent home with Leslie - gardening, cooking, all of it. It was an unfamiliar feeling. He loved his family and how close they were but he never thought of himself as creating a new family just for himself but now he was. He never even really felt that way with Nicki. She had just joined the Doyles.

He didn't like that they always had to hook up at Leslie's. He needed to show her he was capable of being "all grown up" and it also meant that she had some control over when he saw her. He understood that intellectually, but it wasn't totally his style to do what he was told. It certainly was Leslie's style to tell him what to do, though. That would take some getting used to. As he said to Mal once "It's not the listening, its the obeying that's hard."

He realized that he was missing her, so he thought he would call her and see if she was free for breakfast. After he got voicemail a few times, he remembered she had told him she was going to the gym a lot and thought he would head over on spec in case she was there.

All the time Leslie had been pounding the heavy bag she had been thinking about Jake. She thought about him pretty much all the time now and those feelings were good and happy most of the time. However, she was starting to feel slightly threatened in her independence. Jake was trying to let her have some space but he was also so obviously in love with her that she knew it was a struggle for him to stay away.

She was in love with him too and it often overwhelmed her how many times a day she wanted to call him to ask for advice, chat, just hear his voice. She hadn't really had a lover like this before. Mayor Bill Clarke had started out that way but very quickly she realized she couldn't trust him. Jake was different. She knew she could trust him to always be honest but she had always had trouble trusting him not to do something stupid that might ruin her career or her life. He did seem to be getting better about that, though.

But what was really different was that she simply could no longer imagine her life without him. The thought of him with another woman or not around at all would cause her to catch her breath. More and more mornings she woke up either with him or wishing she was with him. But the very next thought that came into her head, somewhat surprisingly, was that she wasn't going to change her name "(smack - she hit the bag), never (smack), never (smack), NEVER" she hit the bag with everything she had and yelled it out loud.

She heard a crash as the bag swung back and knocked Jake down. He had walked into the gym and was standing behind the bag when she hit it.

"You sure know how to knock a guy on his ass," Jake said from the ground where he was sitting.

"Jake, are you okay?" cried Leslie and she ran over to him. Then she stopped, put her hands on her hips and said "what the hell are you doing here anyway?" She wasn't 'out' to her RNC colleagues about her relationship with Jake. If they saw her being nice to him, the rumours would start. Actually, the existing rumours would just get worse. "What do you need me to do for you, now? A license plate, someone's file? You know I don't have time for your two-bit cases."

Jake frowned. Why was Leslie being so mean to him? "I didn't, ... I don't... I think you might have given me a concussion."

Leslie helped him to his feet and whispered to him, "no one here knows about you, yet, please don't let it out"

"Sure, "I get it," he replied. "I don't get it," he thought to himself. "Is she ashamed of me?"

"So what are you never going to do?" he asked her as he helped her untie her gloves.

She looked at him intently and pondered whether to tell him the truth or not. Taking her time didn't help much with Clarke. Acting cool hadn't helped with Jake the last time. She decided to play it straight up. "I will never change my name. No matter what decisions we make about the future, I will never change my name." Her words started to tumble faster and faster and she looked Jake straight in the eye. "Bennett is an honourable name, it's my name, it's my father's name and he was a hero."

Jake stopped working on her gloves and stood looking at her a bit speechless. He gave her one of his patented confused headshakes and finger points. Then he smiled and said "did you just propose to me?"

"Maybe," she said. "Let's get out of here. I only have a couple of hours before I start my shift and I am starved."

"Hang about, b'y," Jake said, "aren't you interested in my answer?"

"Some other time," Leslie snapped with a smile. "I need to get a shower and get ready for work. Wait outside and I will meet you in half an hour."

Jake sat in his car out front of the training centre and contemplated Leslie's proposal. He was pretty clear that's what it was. He understood it probably wasn't a "white wedding" type proposal but more of a commitment to him over the long term. His answer was definitely yes, but he was thinking about Nicki and how different this was from that. He wasn't thinking about a ceremony or a house or anything material. He was just thinking about happiness. "I guess this is what they mean when they talk about being struck by love," he mused. "I honestly feel like a different person than I did an hour ago."

Leslie came out and knocked on his window. "Follow me, we'll go to the diner near my place."

"Yes," Jake said. Leslie started to walk to her car. "Yes," he called out, "yes I will, yes." Leslie turned around and winked at him, then got in her car.


	2. Chapter 2

Never Trust part 2

Jake's phone was buzzing madly as he drove behind Leslie. It was Des and Jake was ignoring him. It buzzed again but this time it was Mal.

"What?" Jake said testily into the phone.

"We have a client. Don't you work here anymore?," Mal said sarcastically.

"Yes, b'y," Jake replied, "but I have life, remember? You know, private time, friends outside of work, stuff like that?"

"No you don',t," Mal replied, "you have Leslie Bennett. When are you going to leave that poor girl alone? Now get over here, we need you on this case."

"Yes b'y," replied Jake, "you take care of it, I'll catch up with you later."

After having breakfast with Leslie and a bit of snogging in the car, much to Jake's happiness, he got another call from Des to meet him and Mal at the Gould's hockey arena.

When he got to the arena, the Gould's Grinders were practicing and Des and Mal were sitting with the head coach in the stands watching.

"Whaddya at?" Jake asked.

"Jake, this is Jerry Quinn, coach of the Grinders. He wants to hire us to find out about some rumours of game fixing on the team," explained Mal.

"I don't mean anything by it," said Jake, "but there can't be much money to be made in off-book betting on double A hockey."

"More than you might think," replied Quinn. "We've recently lost a few games that we shouldn't on strange plays that shouldn't have happened. And lately a couple of league referees have been living a bit better than they used to, if you understand what I mean."

"Okay, how do you want to play it?" asked Jake.

Mal replied, "we were thinking of putting you on the team under cover. We'll say you're a late season addition from the New Brunswick league. Des will be under cover as a goal ref here at Goulds Arena. That will get him into the referees meetings and dressing rooms without risking putting him on the ice."

"I play hockey like an actor", said Jake.

"So do a lot of guys in this league," replied Quinn. "The NHL it ain't."

The next morning Jake showed up at the rink with his hockey equipment and a hangover. "Perhaps that bottle of whiskey was not the right thing to do last night," he wondered to himself.

Quinn walked him to his place in the dressing room and showed him the practice uniforms and the regular uniforms. Jake would be wearing number 14.

"We practice four hours every weekday with two weeknight games and major travel games on the weekend. Most of the guys have other jobs they do in the afternoons. I assume you do, too," Quinn asked him.

"Yeah," replied Jake, "I will probably try and pick up some construction or cab driver work now I'm here in St. John's."

One of the other players getting dressed asked Jake where he was from.

"Moncton most recently", Jake said, "but I've been on the road a lot in the last few years. I'm trying to get in a few more years pro before I get sent out to pasture."

Quinn announced to the players in the room, "Doyle is a late season addition to bolster our defence and see if we can get our sorry asses into the playoffs this year." He turned to Doyle and said, "we can get 'em in their net, but we ain't so good at keepin' em out of ours, right b'y's?"

A large man with a few missing teeth said to Jake, "I knows a few o' the b'ys in Moncton. Who'd you play with?"

Jake replied, "um, uh, I wasn't there long, you know. I didn't get to know them all that well."

"But sure you should be able to name a few, eh, b'y?" the large man said a bit menacingly.

Quinn jumped in, "get your ass on the ice, Ziegler, I don't pay you to talk. Which is a good thing because you're too stupid."

Ziegler growled at bit at Quinn as he walked out the door, followed by a bunch of others who gave Jake quizzical looks on the way by.

Jake said to himself as he adjusted his pads, "I'm starting to regret this already."

The first hour was non-stop speed and endurance drills. Jake came close to puking a few times, but eventually adjusted to the pace and even started to like it a bit. That was followed by an hour of skills drills; passing, shooting, checking, technical skating. Then after short break they played a 90 minute scrimmage. Jake wasn't too far out of his depth with this crew as long as he played his position and didn't get too cute. Ziegler took a couple of hard runs at him, which was a bit much since they were on the same team, but Jake kept his head and avoided any serious injury.

Later in the shower, he wondered how he would manage the next day in both the practice and the game. He hadn't been this sore since the last time he was hit by a car.

A couple of the players invited him over to the local pub for a pint and some wings. He decided it would be good for the case so he went.

"You're none too bad," Robby, one of the forwards, said to Jake after they had ordered their food. "Maybe a bit wussy on the back checks, but I can see how you might not want to make any enemies on the first day."

"I think I already did," Jake replied, licking the wing sauce off his fingers. "Ziegler doesn't like me much."

"Ziggy's like that to everyone new. He's an old player looking for one last season and anybody new is a bit of a threat." That was Fowler, the centre for the first line. Jake had noticed him and he was really good.

"You're some good player," Jake said to Fowler. "How come you're a Grinder and not an Ice Cap?"

There was general laughter and giggling at the table. One of the players Jake didn't know yet said, "Fowler 'fouled' the coaches wife, if you knows what I mean. He'll be playing minor hockey until there's a new coach in town, hopefully with an ugly wife."

"Not my smartest decision," said Fowler. "But the heart wants what it wants."

Jake laughed, "I hear ya."

The players had a jovial lunch and then most of them headed off to other jobs. Jake went back to the office to see how Des had gotten on with the referees.


	3. Chapter 3

Never trust part 3

Des was regaling Mal and Rose with his story of the morning with the referees. "You see, goal judging is actually a very scientific job, plus it's more athletic than you think. Just like an Olympic athlete in his...or her... prime, you have to have perfect eye-hand coordination to see the puck cross the line and hit the light in time to stop the play. Frankly, I think you have to be easily as skillful as the players, easily," he repeated for emphasis.

"Sure, b'y," said Jake as he walked in, "and its just as likely you'll get a head injury. Oh sorry, you already have one.

"Where's the Tylenol?," he asked Rose.

"In the cupboard in the bathroom, dear, but I think you used it all up after you got beaten up last week."

"Damn," said Jake, "I meant to get more. Des, go get me some Tylenol."

"Do you really want Tylenol, or if its for general muscle strain, maybe ibuprofen would be better and easier on your digestive system?"

"Shut up, Des, and just go to the drugstore."

"I'm just sayin'" replied Des, hurrying towards the door as Jake threatened him with a fist.

Rose walked over to the case board and put up a couple of photos of referees. "Des took these this morning at the referees meeting. This is Randy Cuffler, ex-player, two ex-wives and some expensive habits. He's the head referee in this league. The other handsome one is Greg Doyle, no relation that we know of. He was transferred here from Gander. This is a promotion for him and he seems to be ambitious for a future in the NHL."

Jake studied the pictures and said "I'd think Cuffler is the better lead for corruption, wouldn't you, Dad?"

Mal replied, "you might think so, but Doyle is living a bit better than he ought to on his salary and he has an expensive girlfriend."

"Hmmm, so not so easy after all," Jake commented.

Mal turned to Jake, "what'd you come up with?"

"Besides some seriously sore muscles and a possible heart attack? Not much yet, theres a big lad, Ziegler who is very nervous about new guys. He's pretty close to retirement, maybe he has some big expenses? Rose, do a background check on him. He seemed skeptical about my hockey career."

"Smart man," teased Mal, "you're not exactly Dan Cleary, now are ya."

Jake gave Mal his patented sour look. "Yeah and you're not exactly ... well..."

Jake's phone rang. It was Leslie Bennett.

"Sergeant" smiled Jake, "what are you wearing?"

"Cut it out Jake," Leslie snapped, "do you ever turn it off?"

"No"

"Well, then I'd better get used to a lifetime of your come ons."

"Why are you calling me then," Jake said, testily.

"I got a funny call about you today and wondered if you might explain it to me."

"Are ya worried about me?" Jake teased.

"Worried I might have to arrest you," Leslie replied, crossly.

"Tell me about the call," Jake said, more seriously.

"I'll come over to your office"

"How about the Duke, I could use a bit of liquid painkiller."

"I don't want to know," groaned Leslie.

"No, you probably don't," Jake replied.

Jake watched Leslie walk into the bar and smiled at how beautiful she looked.

"You look… wonderful… as usual."

"Thanks, Jake" she said giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Just a diet coke," she said to Christian at the bar, "I'm still on duty."

"So what about the phone call," Jake asked her.

"Well, it was a bit strange. It came into the criminal records check division asking about whether you had a record of some kind. Of course, the clerk asked if the caller had any legal authority to ask and he said he was your new boss. The clerk has see you around the station before, so he transferred the call up to Hood, who passed it to me."

"Did you get anything about who it was?" Jake inquired.

"No, but it was a male and he said he needed to know if you were into gambling or had a record for fraud. I told him I wasn't at liberty to tell him and then he said if I wanted you to stay healthy and prevent a possible crime, I would tell him what I knew."

"Strange," said Jake, "did he sound like Newfoundlander by chance?"

"Mostly, could be maritime but transplanted here. Jake he sounded a bit menancing."

"I'm working on a case involving game fixing in minor hockey. There's some funny game results and my client thinks that some referees and players are throwing games for money. Mal and I are looking into it."

"That must be what it's about," concluded Leslie. "Somebody on that team thinks you're investigating and wants to stop ya, or figure out if they can get you involved."

She looked at him quizzically, "I know ya play the horses and things, Jake, but you wouldn't think of doin' this?"

"Hockey is like religion, Leslie. It would be like betting that the next hymn is 'Faith of our Fathers', I wouldn't dream of it."

She laughed, "I shoulda known."

She looked at her watch and said, "I need to get back."

"You don't have half an hour for a bit of fun?" Jake asked.

"Looking at you, I'm wondering if you would be any fun at all." She paused, "you're undercover on the team, aren't you?"

Jake nodded, painfully.

She laughed again, "I'll get my best massage skills ready for ya."


	4. Chapter 4

Jake showed up to the rink early the next morning to get a look around and see if there was anything in Ziegler's locker that might help the case.

There's nothing like a quiet, dark arena. It makes the hockey as religion metaphor even more realistic. He truly did love hockey and always wished he'd been a bit bigger and stronger and he might have had a career in it. "That way lies madness" he said to himself.

He found Ziegler's locker and managed to pick the lock on it. Not all the players had locks but Ziegler did. That in itself was interesting. In the locker he found a notebook with a list of all the games from this season and last with Ziegler's own stats plus the score, but some of the games had asterisks beside them with a few other one or two digit numbers. Sometimes the numbers were the same and sometimes a number was crossed out. They looked like jersey numbers. He took a few photos that he could email this to Rose and have her run down the games and see if they were the ones that got thrown. This could be the evidence they needed. But there was something not quite right about the book.

He turned around just in time to see the blade of the stick smack him across the head as Ziegler knocked him unconscious.

When he came to, he smelled of rum and had a terrible headache. He was in Jerry Quinn's office in a chair.

"Is this what I hired you to do Doyle? Get drunk and pass out in my locker room? How in the name of Jesus, Mary and Joseph are you going to able to practice this morning and play tonight?"

"I'm not drunk," he said.

"You sure reeks of the booze" replied Quinn.

"Yeah, I do, don't I" observed Jake. "But its not booze, or I mean, I didn't drink it. I was here looking for evidence and someone smacked me with a hockey stick. They must of poured the rum over me after I passed out."

"Who would do that," asked Quinn.

"Well, it was Ziegler's locker I was looking in when it happened."

"Ziegler? Too stupid. He couldn't be the brains behind the game fixing and they couldn't trust him to be part of the scam because he can't keep a secret." Quinn was shaking his head as he talked.

"Well he had a book in there of all the games and scores and what looked like notes about what games would be thrown or had been thrown."

Jake scratched his head. "In fact, I think that he had a star by tonight's game. Maybe there's a plan to throw tonight's hockey game against the Flatrock Flyers."

Jake called Mal, "Dad, I need you to look into whether there is any illegal betting going on for tonight's game between the Gould's Grinders and the Flatrock Flyers. I think this could be one of the games they are going to fix. Tell Des to be extra alert."

"Who's Des?" inquired Quinn.

"One of my associates", said Jake. "He is undercover on the referee side of the case."

Quinn nodded, "good idea. Now get changed and hit the ice. Tonight's game with the Flatrock Flyers is going to a be even more important now."

After Jake left the dressing room, Quinn used his master key to open Ziegler's locker and found the notebook. "Bastard" he muttered as he closed it, closed the locker and took it back to his desk.

After another grueling workout, Jake went for lunch with the same group of players as he had the day before. This time he broached the subject of the fixed games with them.

"Any of you ever heard about illegal betting on our games?" he asked the group.

"You gotta have a serious gambling habit to bet on our league," said Robby. "I mean, isn't sports betting about odds. Who knows anything about the odds of this group of oddballs?"

"Yeah," said Fowler, "why would you bet on this league?"

"Any bet's a good one if you know the outcome," said Jake.

"You mean, fixing games?" asked Robby looking incredulous.

"Maybe" answered Jake. "Stranger things have happened."

"I can't think of any games that seemed like they were fixed, on our side, at least," said Fowler, skeptically. "Whadda you care anyway as long as you get paid."

"It would be a big problem for a journeyman like me to get hooked up with a crooked league," said Jake, angrily. "Besides, it's hockey man, it's sacred."

"Sacred, sure. So damn sacred that when you get clocked in the face with an elbow and your career ends, they just send you down and down until you get to this shithole," said the player beside Fowler. He was the goalie for the Grinders.

"That happen to you", asked Jake.

"No, my brother," the goalie replied. "He will never work and never play again. Sacred, eh."

"That's no reason to bet on the game. Unless you need the money to help him or someone else?" Jake queried.

"Are you accusing me of fixing games, dicksmack?" the goalie rose out of his seat and raised his fists. "Let's take this outside and I'll fix you."

"Take it easy pally. I feel bad about your brother, I really do. But I need to know I'm in a clean league."

"Clean as they get, my friend, clean as they get." That was Fowler. "Bill, please sweetie", he said to their server. "I gotta go. See you all tonight."

Meanwhile Des was in the referee's pre-game meeting planning how the game would go.

"The Flatrock Flyers are hard asses, there will be a lot of penalty minutes tonight, but our job is to keep control of the headshots," said Randy Cuffler, the head referee. Smith and Doyle, you need to watch for guys comin' across the line with their heads down, Goulds is notorious for that. They might be seeking majors but we can't let them get away with it." Alan Smith was a new linesman brought in for this game.

"Courtenay, your job is just to make sure all the goals are legit, but also watch your end of the ice for illegal plays. We can always use your view point if we have to watch a replay."

"The Flyer's goalie is a guy called Redmond – Wolf Redmond. He's only been in the league a few weeks. Big guy, long hair. He tends to cover up a lot especially if the puck is close to the line. You have to watch him like a hawk to prevent him from gloving the puck out of the net after a goal."

"Cuffler and Doyle", he continued, "Redmond likes to challenge the linemen after a goal is called. He can be pretty intimidating but don't let him stand you down. Call em like you see em."

Doyle shot back, "I call em as they are. That arsehole, ain't seen nothing yet."

"Maybe so," replied Smith, "but keep your head up, anyway."

Des put his hand up. "Yes, Courtenay?" Smith asked.

"As the goal judge, my ruling stands, no matter what, right?"

"No, if I see on the reply that you blew the call, I can overturn it."

"Yeah, but that practically never happens right, I mean practically, almost, mostly almost never, right?"

"Why do you care, Courteney?"

"Well, you see, this girl, my girlfriend, I mean, maybe my girlfriend, I mean, anyway, she's coming tonight and like, I don't want to be embarrassed by calling a goal and then having it like, not be a goal, and then she might , well, "

"It doesn't happen often Courtenay, I wouldn't worry about it. Besides, with this new kid, Jake Doyle, playing for the Grinders, all the girls will be after him anyway," laughed Cuffler.

"Yeah, all us Doyles are babe magnets," joked Greg Doyle.

"But you, Doyle, are an expensive babe magnet. How the hell do you keep that chick in the jewels that I sees on her? You ain't got that kinda money," said Cuffler.

"You just mind your business, b'y. I has me ways," replied Doyle angrily. "Is this meeting over," he asked Smith.

"Yeah. Just get back here an hour before game time," Smith ordered.

Quinn sat in his office and pondered what to do about Jake Doyle. He had figured out from Ziegler's book that Ziggy knew he was involved in the game-fixing scheme. What he didn't know was whether Jake knew and if so what he would do about it.

Quinn had hired the Doyle's to try and ferret out who was digging into the scam. He had been getting death threats by phone and recently someone had put a letter through his door with his old number fourteen crossed out in red ink.

He had only gotten involved in the game-fixing when his wife and daughter had walked out on him. She didn't know how bad he had been losing money and when she got the divorce lawyers involved he needed a way to get good money fast. He had met a player from the Flatrock Flyers in the bar one night and between them they had cooked up the scheme. Quinn could probably turn one of the refs. He knew Greg Doyle from junior. He was into a pretty expensive babe these days. He had been pretty easy to turn. Greg would just miss a few obvious goals and that was that. Simple.

Only someone had figured out what was going on and he needed to know who. Jake had worked pretty fast identifying Ziegler. Now what?

Quinn's phone buzzed. It was O'Toole from the Flyers.

"Yeah?"

"You called," said O'Toole.

"We might be blown," said Quinn. "I think Ziggy might have figured out the scheme."

"Does he know who all's involved or has he just got yours in a sling?"

"Could be everyone. Not sure."

"What do you think he might do?"

"Go to the cops, I don't know." Quinn sounded nervous.

"I have a plan. Keep him on the ice a lot tonight until his old ass tires out. I'll take him down in front of Doyle and he'll be done."

"You mean a head injury?" asked Quinn.

"No, I mean a ticket to the opera," replied O'Toole angrily. "Of course I mean a head injury. It won't matter to Ziggy, he's ready to retire and already too stupid for anyone to even notice."

"That sounds pretty wrong," said Quinn.

"Not as wrong as you going to jail for illegal gambling, which you will do, because I will not go down with you, my friend," replied O'Toole.

"Okay, okay. It was me that started this. I'll finish it," said Quinn, resignedly.


	5. Chapter 5

The crowd was lively when Mal and Rose got to the arena. They had Tinny and Christian with them but everyone was sitting in a different part of the stands to get a good view of what was happening on the ice.

Rose got a call from Jake asking if she had any luck with the notebook.

"Yeah, the games that had stars were all lost by the Grinders on bad goal calls. In each case the goal referee called the goal, but the linesman overturned it."

"Was the linesman Cuffler or Doyle," said Jake.

"Can't say, but they were both refereeing those games."

"So it could be either of them," said Jake.

"Hi Leslie," said Rose as Jake overheard them on his phone.

"Put her on," said Jake.

Leslie took Rose's phone. "Hey, Doyle, ready for the game?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I came to see my man act manly. Plus, if the games are being rigged, I thought you could use an extra pair of eyes."

"We could at that. Do you know anything about hockey?" Jake asked, delicately.

"Enough to tell you Jerry Quinn was number 14 when he played 1 short season in the NHL," she said.

"Fourteen," asked Rose?

"Yup, he played in the same league as my dad."

"Jake", said Rose, "the numbers by the games looked like jersey numbers but they didn't make sense because there was a number fourteen written down but no player wore fourteen until you joined the team."

"Fourteen must refer to Quinn", said Jake.

"Ziegler must have figured out that it was Quinn fixing the games, but he had to use code in his book," said Rose.

"You don't think Ziegler was in on it", asked Jake.

"No," replied Rose, "the way the pages look I think Ziegler knew something was wrong but he couldn't figure out who was behind it until yesterday when he crossed off all the numbers except 14 and 6."

"Six is Fowler," said Jake, "I should have guessed."

"But we still don't know what ref it is or how we prove it."

"Leslie, was Quinn a close friend of your dad's" Jake asked over the phone.

"Not really," she replied, "my dad thought he was a bit of a skiver, but he liked pretty much anyone."

Behind Jake he could hear Quinn shouting at the team, "move it you arseholes and try to win one for a change."

"Gotta go," said Jake, "wish me luck."

Jake headed back to the dressing room for his helmet and stick just in time to see Quinn give Ziegler a black look and say "Ziggy, I don't pay you for your brains. Just get out there and play hard and stop protecting your head like a bloody girl."

The game started fast with the Flyers taking possession in the neutral zone and keeping it in the Grinder's end. As a defenseman, Jake didn't have much time for anything but blocking shots and cycling the puck up to the forwards whenever he had a chance. Fowler was a good centre but he couldn't seem to crack the Flyer's blue line. "But is he really trying", wondered Jake, just before another Flyer forward whistled past him towards the net. Luckily, the Flyers were unable to put on in the net in the first period.

Finally towards the middle of the second period, Jake landed a pass right on Fowler's stick as he was about to cross into the Flyer's zone on a breakaway. Fowler deked right, shifted left and roofed a gorgeous one into the Flyer net. Redmond, the goalie charged Fowler and sent him on his ass and Doyle, the linesman waved off the goal.

Jake could see Des waving madly that the goal was good and looking for Tinny. Mal signaled to Jake that the goal looked good to him, too.

Jake tried to get over to where the refs were conferring to see if he could hear anything, but he couldn't get close enough. It did look like they were arguing though. This would be a bad goal to waive because anyone could see it move the net when Fowler hit it high.

Behind him, he could hear a bit of a ruckus at his own bench. He turned to see Quinn tearing one off Ziegler and Ziegler shouting back that Quinn had betrayed the game.

Eventually the goal was called good and the game continued. Jake noticed that Quinn left Ziegler on the ice with very few breaks and he could see the player starting to tire. He asked Quinn if he was going to give Ziegler a break.

"When you're the coach of this team, you can make those decisions, but now, I pay you to play hockey and keep your mouth shut."

During the next break between periods, Jake called Mal and asked him how it looked.

"What, your skating? Like crap as it has since you were a kid. My God you're slow."

"I mean the case, Dad, how's the case lookin'?"

"There's definitely something fishy about the goal judging. And I think that the goalie looks familiar."

"Me, too."

As the third period got underway, Fowler scored another beauty in the Flyer's net and Remond challenged again. This time Jake was at the blue line so he charged Redmond and immediately recognized him as Wolf.

As he faked a fight he said, "Jaysus b'y, what are you doing?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing?" said Redmond.

"I'm on a case," replied Doyle.

"Me too," said Redmond.

"Kind of small case for you folks" Jake said as he aimed a roundhouse for Redmond's head.

"Hockey's my religion b'y, no game fixing case like this is too small," replied Redmond as he ducked and aimed one at Jake's solar plexus.

The linesman Greg Doyle pulled them off. "It's no goal, b'ys. Not worth fighting about."

"Whadda ya mean, no goal? It was about eight miles over the line. A blind man could have called that goal," insisted Jake.

"No goal" said Doyle, " now feck off back to your bench before I puts ye in the box."

Jake signaled to Mal that Doyle was definitely the bent ref.

The whistle blew for the faceoff and the next thing Ziegler was out cold from an elbow to the face by a Flyer player named O'Toole. The game stopped as the medics came out and Ziegler went to hospital by ambulance with a head and neck brace on. It looked very bad, but no penalty was called.

Jake skated over to Leslie and told her that she should go to the hospital to protect Ziegler and talk to him if he came to.

Jake looked over at Quinn who looked smug rather than concerned.

Next play, Jake ran straight at O'Toole, took him into the boards and pounded the crap out of him. They both got fighting majors which sent them to the showers.

Jake got his skates and pads off and then went looking for O'Toole. He was looking at his iphone. Jake grabbed it from behind and saw the text from Quinn. "Nicely done. See me after the game for your money."

"So you got paid to end a guy's career?" Jake accused O'Toole.

"Ziegler's a dumb old hack. Time he was out of the game anyway. He's nothing but a slow old man."

"And you're nothing but a moron with a broken wrist to end your season," Jake replied.

"What do you mean, I don't have a broken wrist."

"You do now", said Jake, slamming the hockey stick down on O'Tooles arm.

"Jaysus, b'y", he shouted, "you're crazy."

"Now tell me who else is in this scam and you get to keep your other wrist."

"Quinn organized it, Doyle fixes the calls and sometimes a few of us make a few bucks diving or missing passes or shots."

"Are you prepared to testify about that?" asked Jake

"Yes, b'y, just don't break my other arm."

"I didn't break your arm," said Jake, "you slipped in the shower like the klutz that you are." Jake waved the stick around.

"Right, tripped in the shower," confirmed O'Toole.

Jake heard the buzzer ending the game. When Wolf Redmond walked in the dressing room, Jake said, here's the sleveen you're looking for. Ready to make a full confession, eh, O'Toole."

Jake phoned Leslie and told her what happened, except the broken wrist. "Send Hood down here to arrest Quinn before he takes off."

"Way ahead of you Jake. Hood just confirmed both Quinn and Doyle are in custody. Wolf Redmond picked them up for us. Did you know he was working the case?"

Later that night:

Jake and Leslie are lying in bed and Leslie is nursing some of Jake's bruises.

"So what happened at the hospital?" Jake asked.

"Ziegler looked like he might not make it. I guess he has had one too many head injuries. But he toughed it out and came to, eventually. He confirmed that the book was his way of trying to solve the game fixing. He said he thought you were brought in by Quinn to make it worse, especially when he saw that Quinn gave you his old number."

"What will happen to him", Jake asked.

"Quinn, Doyle and O'Toole will do a bit of time. There's a few others who might get some community service."

"What about Ziegler?"

"Nicki thinks he will make it but he will never play again. Some of the other players have started a fund for him, though. He cleaned up their game so they want to do right by him."

"I love hockey," Jake said with a yawn.

"Well judging by these bruises, it doesn't love you."


End file.
